


then, now, and always (I'm with you)

by forestpenguin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Clone Wars, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Snippets, Stolen Moments, but it's still set in the
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 03:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestpenguin/pseuds/forestpenguin
Summary: They say the war is over, but Cassian knows better. It hasn't yet begun. He's already on another mission: to stopOperation Stardust, whatever that actually is.In this confusing, new, galaxy, Cassian only knows one thing for sure. Jyn Erso - his teammate, his friend, his someday - is dead.





	1. frozen wasteland

**Author's Note:**

> This note should say "Rebelcaptain Captain America AU" but it's actually more like "Rebelcaptain AU inspired by a very butchered version of the Captain America movie plots set in the SW universe." For @redstyxsora on tumblr.

The crunch of boots slows to a halt.

Pale blue eyes peer through viewfinders. The lips underneath curl as the blurry shapes come into focus.

Wind brings the bitter chill through the corporal's clothing. Snowflakes careen towards them, falling into their boots and refusing to melt despite their body heat. It takes all their focus to keep their teeth from chattering. Distracted by the cold, it takes them a moment before they realize the general's raised his hand.

He beckons for them to come forward, then says:

"Get me a line through to Chancellor Mothma as soon as possible."

"But... sir, we're on the fringes of Imperial airspace, and it's midnight on Yavin IV. I'm afraid we'll have to wait 'til we get back on the ship."

They raise their shoulders defensively, shoving their hands into the depths of their pockets. Ifs and buts find no home with the man standing before them. Framed by the blizzard set aflame by searchlights, the man's silhouette stiffens. He lowers the viewfinders.

General Draven turns away from Fest's wintry landscape - more specifically, the tailfin of a ship jutting up on the horizon. The muscles of his jaw briefly bunch together, gloved fingers gripping the viewfinders tightly.

"He's waited long enough."

Draven's gaze flits back to the icy grave. Coated in a layer of thick ice, snow skims along the surface, gaining an ethereal glow as the shadows of the rescue team flicker across its surface.

"We must inform her immediately."


	2. this is my choice

"Cassian Jeron Andor."

The Human pauses between each of his names, lingering on the last syllable for emphasis, forming a hard J around his father's name. Cassian finds his throat suddenly too dry to conjure a reply in the Mid Rim accent he'd been practicing all week.

He swallows nervously and nods.

Strands of greyish-blond hair dusts the examiner's shoulders, while the rest is pinned away from his face in a bun. He briefly glances at Cassian down the bridge of his nose, before tapping at his datapad. Cassian's gaze falls to the badge pinned to the grey fabric of his chest.

_Galen Erso, R &D._

"That's a Festian family name, is it not? _Andor?_ "

His attention snaps back to the man's face. Erso is nonchalant, eyes fixed on his screen, but Cassian knows the weight of what he's just said.

"Indeed, sir."

Not many, including Separatists, know anything about Fest. Most beings can't point it out on a star map if they tried. Curiousity fills the young boy's eyes, too timid to vocalize the question that arises.

Cassian's reply lies in the file - an actual, bounded collection of flimsi - that falls with a thwack beside him on the examination table.

"Eerily similar to the fellow who'd put in a request at Mantooine a year ago. And, oh, three other files that all share one thing in common: your face and a stamp."

Bright red letters scream up at him in Aurebesh. _Rejected._

"Are you going to dismiss me again, sir?" Cassian's shoulders threaten to give out: for so long, he'd tried, and tried, and just when he thought he might make it all the way, the door slams in his face.

"No need for sir. Galen is fine. Dr. Erso if you insist. And -" Erso leans in, matching Cassian's worried, but unwavering, gaze with his own. "I'm still thinking about it."

A sigh of relief leaps to his lips. Cassian fights the impulse back into his lungs, adopting the posture of the soldier he so desperately wants, no, needs, to be.

"What must I do? What tests must I pass?"

Erso presses his lips together.

"Only one."

Cassian straightens up immediately. "I'm ready, Dr. Erso."

Galen would smile at the boy's eagerness, but knowing where a positive result will take Cassian pulls his face into the faintest of frowns as he asks: "This is your fifth attempt at entering the Separatist Army. You'd be the youngest Human solider if we accepted you. Why? Why are you trying? Do you want revenge?"

"I don't want to kill anyone," Cassian replies without hesitation. "I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from."

He stares back, warm brown eyes growing hard.

The smile breaks free on Galen's face.


	3. an old friend

"Didn't know we're rearing human _kits._ Or are ya jus' bantha fodder?"

Cassian raises his hands to parry the fist on a collison course with his face. A rookie mistake on his opponent's part - Cassian steps aside with an ease that doesn't ruffle his clothing.

His eyes are fixed on his opponent's green skin. A drop of sweat runs across the side of her face, disappearing into the collar of her sports gear. Her mouth is drawn tight, brown eyes narrowed and on his face - instead of his hands which move straight to her chest plate.

Cassian's ears, however, are tuned towards the mat next to theirs.

Perhaps another rookie mistake, but the situation demands his attention nonetheless. The subject of the earlier taunt is a Human female - a shorter woman, perhaps, or maybe just a girl. On second glance, he notices the fullness of childhood still rounding her cheeks.

Dr. Erso had said Cassian would be the Separatist's youngest soldier, but her presence here contradicts that statement.

Her face betrays no emotion.

"'s alright, ya might be good for sumthin' - maybe you'll like my moves," he growls breathily, following the statement with an obscene gesture and a leery wink.

The jab has no effect on her, save the slight flutter of her eyelashes around bright green eyes. Her posture is loose, holding no tension, but her stance is perfect: open and ready.

Cassian has a match to win, though, so he reigns his interest back. Just in time - the Twi'lek's arm whizzes over his head. Cassian reaches up and yanks her down, twisting her arm back.

He counts seconds under his breath, scraping a glance over his shoulder. Somehow Cassian knows the girl's antagonizer has a surprise in store for him. Something in her eyes, he thinks. Something bright.

Cassian's opponent yields - three taps on her thigh. He lets go with a bow, and as the Twi'lek retreats to nurse her sore arm, he turns to openly watch his neighbour's sparring match.

It lasts about ten seconds.

Ten seconds for the long-eared Bimm to miss his mark and be felled in one swift kick. Cassian doesn't hide his wince at the crack of skull meeting thinly padded floors.

He feels the daggers before he sees them - he replies to the wariness in her eyes with a brusque yet appreciative nod.

"You trying to be next?" she asks, rolling up her sleeves. Her lips are pulled into a scowl, exhaustion lining her features. Then her eyes dart upwards, and Cassian's met with the brunt of her hostility. A pair of battle droids meander by and drag the still-groaning Bimm off the sparring mat.

"If you'll go easy on me."

She stops fiddling with her clothing and arches an eyebrow at him. He nods earnestly, and after a moment's thought, she beckons for him to step onto her mat.

"Alright," she says, raising her fists to cover the lower half of her face. She's shorter than he is - Cassian's tall for his age. But where he is long-limbed and slightly awkward, she is sure footed, already bouncing on her feet, waiting to fell her first blow. Anyone who'd mistake her for easy pickings is a fool. "But first-"

"What?"

She raises her chin, and brown hair falls loose across her face. The overhead lights spark in her eyes, and Cassian is offered his first glimpse of something deeper.

"My name's Jyn."

He grins.

"Cassian."


	4. countdown

This, Cassian realizes as he studies the beings around him, is almost more than what he signed up for.

Surrounded by a plethora of species and humans of all shapes and sizes, Cassian finds some solace in short brunette standing at his side. Jyn purses her lips, hands clasped tightly behind her back. She looks on, impassive, at the Nemodian stepping up to the line of cadets. It's clear she's received combat training before, and Cassian begins to wonder how many of the others around him have as well.

It might put him, with his guerilla tactics wrought from ice and snow, at a disadvantage. Cassian doesn't care. He will train, he will fight, and he will ensure Fest is remembered.

After all, Dr. Erso had approved of him for a reason.

He feels Jyn shift at his side, and Cassian returns his attention to the front.

"War!" the Nemodian barks, "war is brewing. More and more planets are dissatisfied with the Republic's shortcomings and tipping towards the Separatist cause. War is inevitable. But when it happens, we will win. Why? Because we have the best soldiers and the best technology." Cassian finds her red eyes briefly meeting his before her gaze sweeps over the rest of the cadets.

"And they're going to get better. Much better." Her voice quavers with the anxiety characteristic of her species, but then her hands curl into an uplifted fist. "Our facilities here on Vallt have only one focus. Improving what we have. Our goal is to create the greatest droid army in galactic history - and the organic minds to lead them."

* * *

"Move!"

The command reaches his ears in the sharp clicks of Geonosian. He wants to obey, should obey, tries to obey. Cassian's thin shirt drips with sweat and it wraps around his skin in a chokehold. With every step his boots grows heavier. Still, he pushes forward, one foot in front of another, because the ground under his feet is mere dirt.

Not knee-depth snowbanks.

Another pair of boots match the thud of his own. Lighter, closer together, so when Jyn's face peers past his elbow, Cassian isn't surprised.

"On your left."

Cassian grins. Her comment sneaks through her gasps for air, face framed by hair darkened with sweat. She still manages to smirk at him before lurching forwards, following the path of a Rodian.

He dangerously decides to keep pace with her. He's not quite sure why.

Jyn, for all intents and purposes, has the posture of a runner trained to kill. She's small, small for a Human, small for a Human woman - but she uses it to her benefit. Cassian recalls the sparring match, and can't believe anyone could underestimate her. Then again, his mother always said he was more perceptive than most.

She tosses a glance over her shoulder, bright green eyes twinkling.

He figures he should say something in response, but then a shrill cry pierces the air.

"Detonator!"

Cassian follows the grey streak in the air on its path to the ground. He rolls on impact, throwing himself over the detonator and braces for the inevitable explosion. If this will be his end, so be it.

He's securing the lives of the others.

Seconds pass like minutes, and when the shouts subside, he realizes -

"False alarm. Resume jogging!"

Cassian stiffens. Glancing up, he spots Jyn helping the Rodian off the ground - clearly she'd tackled them moments prior. Sitting up and looking around, he spots Dr. Erso looking at him curiously.

"I thought you said you only had one test."

* * *

The quarters are separated by species, so Cassian winds up with a bunk across from Jyn's. The population of the room skews male and bulky, but none of the other cadets dare stare too long at her after the sparring incident. Cassian's escaped their glances, mostly because he doesn't look like a threat and stays in the shadows, but perhaps the adventure with the false detonator served him well.

The others stay away from the two of them, and thus they frequently find themselves in each other's orbit. Jyn likes to keep to herself, melding into the shadows like he, only shining brilliantly on the training mat. One swift kick after another she fells her competition and Cassian feels himself, just a tiny, stubborn, part of him, falling as well.

Together, they spar like two halves of the same whole, often coming to a draw after several minutes of pure exhaustion. Cassian learns to mimic Jyn's stances, realizes how to use his comparatively smaller stature to his benefit. Like a viper poised to strike, Jyn's lethal in close combat.

From him Jyn learns a rugged sort of patience. She's never had to wait hours in the cold for her mark to appear in her viewfinder, never felt her fingers freeze over the trigger. She is all fire, action, and Cassian is cold anticipation. Between the two of them - in their whole squadron, to be honest - Cassian is the better sharpshooter.

And slowly, he feels their overseers' eyes fall on them. Every week, they check the ever-shrinking cadet list displayed beside the entrance to their quarters. Every week, two names linger at the top.

Cassian Andor. Jyn Dawn.

It's all he ever wanted: to be able to fight back.

But now that he's nearing it, a tiny, stubborn part of him he wishes they were just two regular teens living in the Republic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The short chapters & slow build is almost done - where in canon Steve & Bucky are established as close friends from the get go, Cassian and Jyn have to learn to trust each other...  
> which means they're going to face a curveball very soon.


	5. erso's story

"Every army starts with one man."

Even years later the Nemodian from their very first address looks exactly the same. More lines around the mouth, perhaps, but their species is spared the greying and sagging of humanity. Some humans insist they can't tell the difference between them, but Cassian has never found any problem telling Nemodians apart.

"At the end of this week we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of supersoldiers."

Cassian shoots Jyn a look.

"Looks like you're out of the running," he whispers out the corner of his mouth. The speaker's voice buzzes at the base of his skull, the drawling intricacies of the Separatist Kyber Enhancement Program filed away for later study.

A dull jolt of pain flares underneath his ribs. Cassian catches the suspect, looking down to see Jyn's elbow in his grasp before she tugs it away.

 _Shut up,_ her look says.

He fights down the chuckle that arises, stuffing it back into his lungs and maintaining the attentive posture expected of him.

In Jyn's defense, the Nemodian ought to have remembered. Over the years of this program, the number of cadets dwindled enough to render forgetting Jyn's presence a crime. Not to mention those of genders not understood by Core-based minds still stand among them.

Jyn's expression betrays no thoughts, save for the slight upwards tick of her mouth.

Cassian thinks nothing of the joke, until the gathering is disbanded.

* * *

"Why me?"

They sit, Cassian and Galen, on the empty bunks of the cadet quarters. Cassian's now abandoned datapad perches on his knee, and Galen holds a bottle of -

"Toniray," he explains, pouring out two glasses. "The Alderaanian favourite. Hard to get when you're on the run from the Republic." Cassian eyes the process curiously. He's long past standard drinking age by a plethora of regulations, his teenagehood having slipped by somewhere in these very quarters. Still, he's never acquired a taste for alcohol, it forever being associated with the stench of open wounds and the sting of frozen fingers; prayers muttered under shivering breath; cadets spitting words he'd rather not have heard.

"Something to calm the jitters," Galen adds with a slight smile, setting the bottle down on the small storage box at Cassian's footboard. "It's a big day for both of us tomorrow. But that doesn't answer your question."

Cassian presses his lips together and nods. Galen gestures, glass in hand. "I know you're too polite to ask, but... you must've noticed.... my accent."

Cassian blinks. "High class Coruscanti," he guesses - knows - and Galen nods.

"And now you know how I acquired this," he nods towards the emerald green bottle. "I was one of the Republic's top scientists, a well-known engineer, a proud graduate of the Futures program... which is where I met Orson Krennic. We were friends, close friends, and after we graduated, like most of our colleagues he accepted a job with the Republic's research division - weapons research. I found my calling elsewhere... crystallography led me to various fields, renewable energy, medicine..."

And finally, a scrap of information. The mention of crystals piques Cassian's interest, but he keeps his hands firmly folded in his lap, attentive. In all these years the only thing he's learned about the Kyber Enhancement Program is that it's to do with the very crystals the Jedi use to power their lightsabers.

The Jedi... Cassian glances at Galen, whose gaze is now distant, staring at an unseen memory.

"... but I could not escape. Krennic approached me on behalf of the Republic. Now, he's a brilliant mind, but more than that he reeks of ambition. I could sniff it out from worlds away. My... I realized the Republic would be more interested in weaponry than energy sources for Outer Rim worlds. What he wanted..."

Galen's eyes refocus, seem to find Cassian's face. He hands Cassian the other glass, the red liquid sloshing inside as he extends his hand.

"... was my research. My formula, that uses kyber crystals to enhance the... properties of the common human. So once Krennic sniffed it out, he couldn't resist. He had to have that power for himself."

"So he took it?"

"Tried to. But then the Confederacy came to Vallt while I was working on a rural energy project, and the leadership offered me protection."

"In exchange for access to the formula." Cassian reaches out and takes the glass. Galen blinks owlishly.

"Well, yes, I guess you could put it that way." The older man sighs. "It is a great privilege for me, for you, to be involved on this project. You asked, _why you_?"

Cassian nods, but Galen's gaze is distant once again.

"This... serum. It amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse. A strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion."

He gives Cassian a pointed look.

"So whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man."

The glasses clink, and Cassian raises the wine to his lips.

* * *

  
"There you are."

Flipping through the notes Galen offered him and rereading old messages on his datapad did little to help Cassian sleep. Galen had retracted the glass of wine, belatedly remembering that the next morning's procedure requires fasting.

With nothing to distract him, Cassian wanders the training facility. The other cadets are slated to leave for regular camps in the morning; so they spend their last night together in celebration. Even now, Cassian hears the dull thud of cheering cadets, the odd smash of a bottle.

Tonight, nobody cares. Tomorrow brings a new world.

So they celebrate - save one, who sits cross-legged on a training mat, a punchbag still swinging behind her.

"You say that like you're surprised." Jyn takes a long swig from her waterbottle. Water dribbles down her chin, leaving flecks at the corner of her mouth.

Cassian smiles and joins Jyn beside the mat.

"I should've looked here first."

She wordlessly hands him the bottle, and as he drinks she swipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Jyn's always been quiet, and so has he. But a slight, foreign tension hangs in the air between them, and Cassian can see it in the strained tug as she starts to pull off the wrappings on her hands. He doesn't broach the topic, waiting for her to sort out her own thoughts.

His reward is a drawn out:

"So..."

Cassian bites his top lip. Jyn leans over and drops her wrappings in his lap. He picks up the bandages, starts rolling them up.

"Are you angry?"

"About what?"

There's a quick edge to Jyn's tone, but suddenly he realizes it's not meant for him. She's half-hunched over, fiddling with the screen embedded in the punching bag, presumably to check her stats.

Or check others', because Jyn tends to snoop in places she shouldn't - supposedly couldn't - be.

He sighs.

Today's a day for saying things outright, apparently. So much conversation in such a short time. It's surprising how wakeful he is despite all the exhaustion.

Then again, tomorrow is a new day.

Now that it's so close, a part of him wonders if he'll live to see it.

"Them choosing me over you."

Jyn sighs. "No. Not at _you._ I was envious for all of a second before realizing it's not your fault. I'm just as good at you-"

"To be honest, you're the better wrestler. And I've seen you with truncheons. You're-" he bites back another word, "-lethal. I tend to avoid close fights in the first place."

She grins.

"I'm being humble."

Cassian mirrors her smile, handing her the neatly coiled wrappings. Their fingers brush, briefly, then Jyn leans over and grabs her bag.

"But... it's obvious why they picked you. I'm sure they must've talked to you about it-"

"Yeah, Dr. Erso said something about stronger guys not respecting the value of power."

Jyn bristles at the name, still reeling from the rejection. Her shoulders bunch up as she unzips her bag. When she looks up, though, her expression is clear. "That makes sense."

Cassian shrugs. "It's fair logic," he replies half-heartedly.

"Don't undersell yourself, Cassian." Her arm is half in her bag, tucking away her wrappings. "Look, I might not be strong like the others, but I'm... I'm abrasive. I don't talk much, not very likeable. I don't... get along with people, like you do. They want a supersoldier, but they also want a face. A posterboy. I can't do that. I don't have your charisma, Cassian."

"Is that why you think you weren't chosen?"

Jyn pulls her bag into her lap, head bowed. "I mean... you know what I am."

Cassian nods slowly. Jyn spoke with the Coruscanti high class accent, something that made some of the Outer Rim cadets bristle. It's clear there's a story behind it, but in all these years Cassian has only caught glimpses of it. A mother killed by Republic lackeys, an absent father, eventually finding her way to the Separatists. Everything he knows about her is of her mother. A geologist, stumbled across a natural abundance of kyber, and she paid for the victory with her life.

It would put Jyn's life at risk. 

"You're right. If something goes wrong... an orphan from a forgotten Outer Rim planet won't be missed, right?" He smiles, because he says with the teasing tone of a joke, but they both know it's the truth.

There's a sharp change in the air, Jyn tenses and turns to stare at him. For what feels like several minutes, all Cassian can hear is his breathing; all he can see are her eyes. The moment passes in a millisecond.

"I'd miss you."

She's earnest, but Cassian's instinct is to quip: "Really? I thought you hate me." It earns him a swat on the arm. Cassian smiles, tilting his head at the slight puckering of Jyn's lips, it disappearing when he realizes she's being brutally honest. Her hand still lingers at his elbow, but when his eyes drop there she pulls her hand away, setting it between them on the mat.

"I guess... I don't know. You understand. Shared life experience is kind of hard to find for people like us."

Cassian feels his lips pressing into a solemn line.

"Yeah."

"I just, I don't know." Jyn's sporting a grimace, now, toying with the straps of her bag. "I just... for the longest time I dreamed about..."

"Making a difference?"

Jyn sighs, the mat dipping slightly under her fingertips. "See, this is where you're better than I am. I just wanted to... find the man who killed my mother."

Cassian shakes his head slowly. "There's no shame in that. And to say I wasn't motivated by the same thing I'd be lying to you."

"But now... I can only hope. Or else this all would've been for nothing, and I'll have to go back to sitting around and waiting for the galaxy to happen to me."

"Don't say that." The set of Jyn's lips betrays some agitation, and Cassian leans forward, lowering his voice: "you're meant for more than just waiting." His heart shivers as he says it, because he recognizes who said it to him first, what feels like long ago in a chilly recruitment facility on Mantooine. His hand brushes Jyn's, and mildly startled he leans away.

They've been far closer in combat, yet...

Jyn holds his gaze, long enough for the air to grow chilly around them.

Then a quirk of her eyebrows breaks the tension.

"You hear that?"

"What, the hollering? I'm trying not to."

"No - well, sort of. Someone's singing."

Cassian's focus darts to the wall of the sparring room, beyond which he can hear faint strains of music. Not as gaudy as his first impression - someone out there has quite the talent, and what sounds like the rough but sweet sound of a vandfill.

"You ever dance?"

The question springs without forethought, and he's blurted it out without consideration. Jyn takes in in stride. As she thinks her expression shifts to something distant, a gentle thought materializing as something he can't label a smile dusting her lips. She tosses her pack to the side.

"Not since Mama died." Jyn reaches for her waterbottle but doesn't open the cap, instead, runs her thumb along the ridges on its grip. "You?"

"I was waiting for the right partner."

She tilts her head, giving him a warning glance that has no substance.

"Oh, and your sparring partner didn't cross your mind?"

Cassian smiles. Then Jyn brushes off her track pants and rises to her feet, stretching as she does so.

"Tomorrow's a big day," she starts, a quaver entering her tone.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to celebrate too early," he deadpans, and Jyn shoots him another glance. He stands, stepping to face her.

"But this will be war, Cassian," Jyn whispers, more of the uncertainty creeping in her expression. "it's now or never." She winces as soon as the words leave her mouth, because she hadn't meant it that way, only fell back to the usual banter they exchange over this very training mat.

It isn't her life on the line tomorrow.

"Jyn?"

"Yeah?"

"If something happens tomorrow," Cassian starts, and Jyn shushes him.

"It won't. I'll be waiting for you afterwards, and then..."

"We dance?" he asks, suddenly hopeful, suddenly exhausted, and Jyn smiles, for real this time.

* * *

Jyn tastes those words turning to ashes in her mouth.

The carnage still smoulders, air filled with the acrid smoke of burning wires and spilled chemicals. It assaults her as soon as she steps into the observation chamber, slipping between harried bystanders too shocked to notice a young woman in their midst. She pushes past antenna quivering in terror; their greens and blues turned grey in pallor.

"Papa!" she cries out as soon as she's out into the lab, where nobody can stop her, where it doesn't matter if anyone hears because it might be too late, because there was an explosion, because she can't find Cassian, and- "Papa!"

There are bodies strewn about on the floor. Red blood mixes with green and purple and some of it's aflame and that must be all the serum and it's all mixed into a rancid mess. Her eyes flit over faces, frozen in stone and fear. Jyn clamps a hand over her nose, the air thick with the burning fibres of singed lab coats, golden flames playing tricks on her eyes.

Then, a flash of grey and blond, and Jyn knees beside the body, still breathing, still warm, and Galen's head is in her lap.

"Papa?" It's foreign in her mouth, something that she'd squashed down long ago in anger and hurt and exhaustion rising to her tongue in fear, desperation, realization.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was too late, if only, I have to tell you so much, are all the words that stall in her mouth. Galen's mouth twitches, presumably to say the same thing, or maybe to smile reassuringly, but there's too much blood, and they don't have much time left because it wasn't the explosion that got him, but the sickly red spreading across his chest, the blasterbolt's heat still burning through his shirt.

Her eyes are wet and it's all wrong, terribly wrong.

Jyn's startled by a sensation at her arm - Galen's hand, reaching to brush her face, and for once she doesn't recoil, just sobs. He tucks something into her shirt pocket, then tugs at the cord around her neck. Over her heart.

Her necklace. Mama's - did he want it back, was he telling her something?

His hand falls, to his still chest, and it doesn't rise again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're going to have to hang on that cliff for a while, because I'm going to try and finish writing this whole thing before posting the next chapter (thanks, school!). Perhaps you can yell at me in the comments :D


	6. night flight

For all her training, Jyn's never flown a ship alone before. Speeders, she has, and long ago she watched her father helm the controls of the ship leaving her mother's grave behind.

She doesn't think about it, focuses on toggling switches and monitoring the lights that flicker on in response, only collapsing against the pilot's chair when she's safely in hyperspace. Her arm stings, blood still buzzing with the serum.

The karking serum.

A vial of the blue fluid and a kyber pendant is her entire inheritance.

She fidgets with the plastoid chest plate hastily strapped over her jacket, running over the scratches with her fingertips. A detour to the training room lends her the truncheons hooked on her belt and the blaster shoved into her holster. Under all these layers the kyber lies over her heart, red filling the etches on its surface.

She can't think about it.

Jyn closes her eyes. She doesn't feel any physical difference, other than the electric roar of her heart pushing blood through every nerve. It could just as well be adrenaline.

She's never helmed a ship before, though, so her sudden ability to fly and slice and track the attacker's shuttle all at the same time can only have one cause. The serum, vengeance, something courses through her bones and pushes her forward. With breakneck speed she's stolen a ship right under the Confederacy's nose. Not unaided, as two lanky B1s and a B2 watch her back, blasters at the ready.

She will return them all, obviously, but not until she's found Cassian - and the man who killed her father.

She shouldn't think about it. Focus, her mind whispers. _Focus._

In the swirling elixir outside her viewport, her focus crumbles.

Galen, grinning, words melding together as he explains the mysteries hiding in his chicken scratch.

Amplify the midichlorians in a being's blood: simulate increased Force sensitivity.

The mystery of mind tricks is still lost to Jyn. She reaches out and fails to feel Cassian's presence. Simulated Force sensitivity, then, keeps her in the dark in terms of the Force itself. But her physical powers, then, might rival those of any Jedi.

What she can see:

Mama, shrouded by blades of green. Red filters through soil, a blaster still in her hand. Jyn, stuffing a cry down her throat. Galen's hand over hers, running, flying, to Vallt, to a Separatist welcome, but not home.

No home without Mama.

She can't feel people but she remembers feeling.

Upset, anger, hatred.

Galen entombed in his work, leaving his daughter to be raised by droids and beings who only see her as a stepping stone to curry favour with her father; the keeper of the brain they so desperately want.

Jyn burns, and it might be adrenaline or the serum or the pain of a girl robbed of her mother.

Brilliant Lyra addressed every rock, droid, and non-sentient lifeform by its name and recognized Krennic's intentions as soon as he reentered her husband's life. Her trusting, loving, foolish husband; who never thought a scientist could be so power hungry; who fell for the trap Krennic lay for him.

How naive was Galen, to think the Republic honestly cared about his clean energy project? To think Krennic cared about anything other than real power, power over people, power to become?

Now, ironically, Jyn has that power. Now she's on Krennic's trail.

_Focus._

She's looking for _Cassian._

Her eyelids part to the light of dizzying stars.

When they break atmo the shadows Balmorra's nightcycle engulf the ship. Jyn keeps the lights off, flying low towards blips outlining what appears to be a factory. She knows those lights obscure turrets ready to blast them out of the sky. If she stays on board any longer the Republic will only find stardust and bones.

If Cassian was here he'd remind her Balmorra was not, technically, part of the Galactic Republic, just an ally.

"Kriff that," she mutters, strapping on a parachute.

"Ma'am?"

The B2 series has an unusually low voice, almost melding with the shudders of the ship as Jyn leans down and slams a button on the console, opening a side loading door. Immediately, air whooshes through the ship, the droids holding tight by the magnets of their feet.

Jyn's breathing slows, faint breaths mingling under the wind's roar.

_Focus._

"One of you, watch for my transponder."

The pair of B1s turn just as Jyn leaps out the door, parachute flying out behind her.

"Did she save us some 'chutes?"

* * *

When the transport truck's doors swing open, the kyber has long left the warmth of her palm. Instead it swings with the crack of truncheons. A black-clad figure steps off into the darkness, tucks the kyber back under her collar, and kicks the guard's body under the truck's repulsors.

This, is Jyn.

Her shadow escapes the clutches of the sweeping searchlights. It instead melds with meticulously stacked crates, peeling apart only when she sprints through the maze of shipping containers and loading droids.

Her datapad sits in her back pocket, its green guiding light no longer necessary. It's brought her to this warehouse, and by now the captor and captive - Cassian - will have parted ways. Single minded droids push hoversleds to and fro, and in the haze of faded Aurebesh Jyn picks out her purpose.

Part of her is unnerved by the Republic's reliance on living beings instead of easily managed droids. She notes this weakness as she ducks behind a platform stacked with barrels, waiting for the Human sentries to pass.

Normally this game of hide and seek would leave her panting; but as she curls into a tight, forgettable ball and lets the searchlights pass over her, her breaths come evenly. Still, her nerves rattle, dusting off the aches from years in a training camp.

Only now does she feel them crackle with an impending battle cry.

A guard's cheery whistle bounces off the doors of the turbolift. Jyn's breath condenses against the durasteel as she watches them tap in the keycode. The doors part. The guard fatally fails to notice their extra shadow.

When the doors part a few moments later, a black clad figure strides into cold white light, heels nicking the heap on the floor.

This is Jyn Erso.

Where the warehouse was empty, the lab space is scattered with personnel. Jyn grabs the nearest loaded hoversled. Swear beads on her forehead and disappears just as quickly. Numbered doors blend together, and Jyn briefly pauses to hunt for the name of the machinery to her right.

Crystal spectrometer, she remembers.

Then she's off again, heart echoing the dull padding of her feet.

The kyber pendant warms, and she hopes.

A pair of heads pop above the nearest line of benches and Jyn ducks under the sled. The arm of a white labcoat flops into her vision. When she rises, another passing lab tech glance at the colours pinned to her lab coat, then -

"Is that the new shipment of needles?"

Jyn nods, with all the confidence she doesn't have, and hopes the visibly exhausted lab tech doesn't inspect her pickings too closely.

"Great. Can you - wait, d'you have clearance - ah," the Human waves one gloved hand, "it's just a quick delivery. Over here."

Focus.

Jyn steps inside.

One visible security holorecorder.

One other technician.

One cot.

One _occupied_ cot.

A hushed voice starts a countdown in the back of her mind. The first tech leans towards the cart, a frown already forming. It morphs into a cry once Jyn's hand smashes their face into an explosion of transparisteel shards.

A jarring shriek.

Her blaster's in her hand before her eyes recognize the call button.

She fires once, twice, and both the panel and the holorecorder disappear in a shower of sparks. The blaster twirls in her grip, oddly familiar - it's Cassian's favourite, she realizes, the eh-one-eighty.

"Please don't kill me."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Jyn says, shoving the blaster back in its holster. Wide blue eyes follow the distraction, oblivious to the truncheons coming down over their head.

She should take the time to stuff both the bodies under the cot but even her silenced blaster won't save her from the alarms she's surely activated by firing into the surveillance system. Her instincts scream at her to run - instead, Jyn stands over the cot and hopes.

"Cassian?"

 _Focus,_ she thinks, and after all this time she realizes it's Cassian's voice in her head.

His breath familiar against her shoulder, careful not to cloud her scope.

"Cassian?"

 _Focus - your breathing, your heartbeat, your target. All of them have to align,_ he tells her. _Your eyes are the scope, your body is the weapon._

Bright red catches her attention. Vials, two full and one with a smattering of blood. Cassian's blood, because the serum runs in his veins, and the Republic wants it, and Galen's -

Galen's -

A crash wakes him up.

Red spreads across white tile, mingling with broken transparisteel and spilled chemicals.

"Jyn?"

Drugged, exhausted, confused. Bleary like the minutes before hot caf; tired like the hours after sparring. Hazy, distant like Balmorra's sunrise that is hours away.

Altered, but his voice.

Cassian startles awake to pinpricks on his arm and Jyn turning away from broken vials and a smattering of blood on the floor. He's bound in a clearly hostile environment, but the softening of Jyn's lips reassures his muted senses.

This is Jyn Dawn.

"Yeah," she breathes, his hands finding hers. "It's me."

* * *

At this point detection is the least of their concerns, the escape of the Republic's latest prisoner ranking top priority on the warehouse's list of worries. Howling sirens follow their way out of the factory, sentries hot on their trails as they sprint around the indifferent loading droids still pushing hoversleds around.

An array of blasterfire whizzes past the two of them. Unfortunately for them, and worse for the Republic, the stray bolts find their ends in a platform of containers labelled _explosive._

"Shavit!"

Jyn pulls herself and Cassian, who's recovering remarkably quickly from the sedation, down into a corridor. The resounding explosion wracks the world around them, and amidst the groans of durasteel shredding, Jyn looks up and notices a spiral staircase leading to the upper floor.

"Looks like our way out's gone." Jyn leans over Cassian, following his gaze and groaning when she spots the sentries blocking off the entrance where the trucks came through, exchanging fire with two of the battle droids.

"Let's go up, then."

Scrambling up the stairs brings them to more chaos. The second floor is a series of walkways criss crossing and overlooking the factory floor below. 

"They're evacuating," Cassian observes amidst the rush of personnel emptying into hidden corridors.  "We compromised their location."

"And their place is on fire, but that wasn't our fault." Jyn peers down at the flames closing in on them. 

"Right," Cassian nods, scanning their surroundings for options. "See everyone headed that way?" Jyn catches the flutter of a white cape slipping into a doorway and she nods. "I think it might be a docking bay for higher level personnel. We can hijack a ship."

"Well, let's follow their lead."

Jyn follows Cassian's tracks, stopping when they reach a rather precariously dangling walkway. Clearly one of the explosions had blown half the railings off and twisted the panels.

It would be a hard walk, but surely the walkway could hold two more people. Her face twists into a grimace. Turning around, she realizes the fire's reached the stairwell they came through.

Only one option left.

Cassian shoots a look over his shoulder and nods once.

"One at a time?"

Jyn opens her mouth to protest, but Cassian's already nimbly walking across, testing his weight against the panels.

A loud screech grates at her ears.

The walkway gives out completely.

A cry leaps to Jyn's mouth -

"Cassian!"

He's leaped across the last few steps and stares at her, wide eyed, from the other side of an abyss.

Below, flames crackle, consuming whatever secrets the Republic's stashed away here. Jyn stares, at the empty space where the walkway is supposed to be, at the flames, at them shining in Cassian's stricken gaze.

"There's gotta be a hover somewhere," he starts.

"Go - Cassian, go. They need you. Take a ship, and -"

"No, Jyn," he shakes his head, and she feels, more than hears, the determination in his tone. "Not without you!"

Jyn stalls, then a shower of sparks shoots up between the grates of the walkway she's standing on.

She looks again at the empty space, her hand already reaching for the kyber.

She takes one, two, three steps back.

Runs.

And jumps.

* * *

The empty silence of the cockpit is almost deafening. The thought makes Jyn uneasy. Usually she treasures quiet, especially the kind she shares with Cassian. It's nice to be able to just think.

Of late she can only close her eyes and see Galen dying in her arms.

Her nose fills with the scent of smoke.

Staying awake keeps the memories at bay, and so Jyn stares numbly at the spiraling stars as they hurtle through hyperspace. Her droids fly ahead in their shuttle, Jyn having activated her transponder as soon as Cassian hijacked the ship. It would be a blasted shame if they got away from the exploding factory only to be shot out of the sky upon returning to Vallt.

Cassian's gaze seems to prod at her. She can feel its ebbs and flows, his hesitation to ask questions and his own retroactive musings taking turns with his concerns for the woman sitting in smoke-and-blood stained clothes.

She closes her truncheons with a sigh, setting them on top of her borrowed chestplate.

Cassian's pointedly staring at his datapad, allowing a chance for Jyn to give in and study his face. His features are hollowed out, from either the serum or the sedation; but he looks impossibly good for someone who'd cheated death multiple times in a standard daycycle.

He turns, the high collar of his jacket rustling across his mouth as he does so, and she quashes the train of thought when their eyes meet. His lips are cracked, and his clothes still carry that weird medcenter scent, but he's okay.

She can breathe now.

"You too?"

"What?" she asks innocently. He can see right through her, she know he can, but she doesn't want to make the first move.

"The serum. You took it. You're strong, but unless you took it... that jump..."

Jyn closes her eyes, lower lip curling into her mouth. "I did."

"They let you?"

"No, I..." she sighs. "Before I tell you - what happened? When you took the serum? I was waiting outside and heard the explosion... by the time I made it in, you were gone."

Cassian curls his lips, shaking his head. "One minute Dr. Erso's putting the syringe in my arm, the next there's an explosion and the world goes dark. I don't remember being taken. I vaguely remember more needles but... the first clear thought I had, after, was you."

He says it nonchalantly but the way his voice softens at the end.... Jyn can't think about it. She can't because he doesn't know, doesn't know that -

"Galen Erso is my father," she says, then corrects herself. "Was."

Her gaze fixates somewhere in the distance, a scratch along the surface of the control panel. As if someone had raked it in frustration, or dropped something on it, or -

she doesn't hear Cassian get up, cross the short space between them, and stop beside her seat. It's only when he murmurs her name that she looks up, and suddenly it's hard to look at him because he was Galen's last hope, wasn't he? His last experiment, maybe, but his last hope, too.

For what might be the first time in more than a decade, she cries in front of another. What she realizes is more important, though, is that for the first time since her mother died, someone's there to hold her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now the fun begins! *rubs hands eagerly*


	7. halycon star

Even in the complete darkness of stealthily creeping through hyperspace, light smatters across the hold in the form of green and amber spilling from a panel. Jyn squints at one light as it flickers from yellow to cyan, then tugs at straps of her fingerless gloves.

At the movement of shadows, she glances up.

Cassian squats down beside her, pulling his shield into his lap. "It's a hostage situation," he starts, prompted by nothing but her pointed gaze. "The Halycon Star was set to deliver its load to the Anza system but was intercepted by the Republic when they docked at a supposedly neutral refueling station. Approximately twenty-odd clone troopers, ship's still held in the docking bay by tractor beams."

"Any demands or are we just blasting the whole thing?"

"A billion credits - don't give me that look. They know the Trade Federation has the credits. That's not the problem, though, there's hostages."

Jyn raises her eyebrows. "Who?"

"Mostly technical staff, but one of the Federation's officers is on board."

"So we retake control of the ship?"

"I've been told it's rigged to explode."

Jyn sighs. "So they're sending us in to get everyone out safely before the entire thing," she gestures, spreading her hands in the air.

"Pretty much."

"And they couldn't find a specialized droid squadron? "

"Droids aren't known for stealth or flexibility. It's a tight spot."

"A you-and-I shaped spot, I assume."

Cassian nods and she can pick out the slight amusement in his features even in the darkness. Jyn smiles, albeit grimly. "Have you briefed our team?"

"I was saving the best part for you," Cassian says, gaze following Jyn as she stands, grabbing a handhold embedded in the wall.

"Right." She swings across to the front of the hold, where an array of battle droids await instructions. "You two," she gestures, "sweep the ship. You, prep the escape pods for the hostages. I'll take a peek at the detonator and buy us some time. Cassian, when the droids give you the go ahead, take the hostages to the escape pods. Understood?"

"Roger, roger," chirp the droids, their uniform voices echoing.

"Yes ma'am," pipes Cassian as he rises to his feet. Jyn grins at him over her shoulder.

"Eager, are you?"

"This is the biggest mission they've sent us on. Maybe I'll actually need this," he says, lifting up the arm strapped to his shield. The neon lights bounce along the phrik-infused metal surface, etching Cassian's features in a haunting, effervescent glow. "Before you barrel ahead and shoot up the whole place before I can even terminate the mark."

"Do I hear a challenge?"

Cassian shrugs and the ship shudders. "Perhaps. Jyn, don't forget why we're doing this. The Confederacy -"

"I know," Jyn nods, turning away from his green-and-gold silhouette. "If we aren't careful we'll be just as bad as the Republic. I know." She sighs. "Spoilsport."

Cassian presses his lips together.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

"Do they not want their people back?" CT-1003's internal speaker buzzes. "I knew those Seps were heartless, but... they're willing to just let them all die?"

"No questions, soldier," CT-4312's stern voice cuts through their conversation. "Stay aler-"

Zero-three is only alerted to the intruder when their knees come crashing down over his shoulders. He moves to activate his internal alert comn, but something hard and metal crushes his helmet and the entire world fades to silence.

Cassian leaps to his feet, darting across the refueling stations's docking bay and firing at the security cams. "All clear," he mutters into his comm, sprinting up the Separatist ship's open ramp. "Send everyone else in."

He makes about two seconds worth of jogging down the corridor when a white-and-black helmet bobs into view.

"Stand down!" the clone shouts, but Cassian's tossed his shield before he can raise his blaster. It hurtles at full speed, knocking the trooper off balance. Cassian's already following its path, jumping to catch it on the tips of his fingers before it clatters to the ground, then swinging to pull at the disorientated trooper's. He lets go as soon as he hears the unsettling crack.

He slows as he approaches a bend in the hallway. The next trooper has his back to him. Cassian hooks his shield on his back before reaching for the clone's neck. The plastoid-clad feed kick upwards, then fly into the air as Cassian flips them.

When Cassian glances up another clone is reaching for their blaster. His fingertips are already cold against his shield, so when the blasterbolt reaches him it bounces harmlessly off the surface into a side wall, ending in a shower of sparks. Cassian advances, shield raised against the array of bolts, and when their shadows grow closer he smashes it into them with a loud crunch.

He's hardly broken a sweat.

Cassian strides down the hallway, shield casually dangling from his grasp. When he steps into the next corridor he spots two troopers casually chatting in front of a blast door.

He steps back, pauses to think, then breaks into a run. His shield careens ahead of him, bouncing off the wall and towards one of the clones. It lodges in the gap between helmet and neck piece. His boot connects with the chestplate of the other trooper; he yanks his shield from the body and smashes it over the second trooper's helmet, and then -

"Don't move."

The crackle of a clone's voice, the click a blaster shifting from stun to kill.

Cassian sets the shield on the floor and rises, hands raised on either side of his face. He can't feel the blaster pointed at his back, but is aware of its presence far too late.

He could easily kick his foot back, hook his heel around the clone's knees and knock them to the ground. Cassian just needs to distract him.

A blasterbolt screeching down the hallway is just as effective, and when the trooper falls to a thud Cassian doesn't bother to turn around over until his shield is fastened on his back again.

"Thanks."

Jyn shrugs, lowering her blaster. "I'm sure you were fine on your own."

"But I can't do all the work, can I?"

He glances up through his eyelashes and matches the small smile playing at the corner of Jyn's lips.

"Captain," his comm buzzes.

"Present," he says into his wrist.

"Captain - the hostages are in the mess."

"Understood. Prep the escape pods."

"Roger roger."

Cassian glances up at Jyn. "See you there in ten?"

"Affirmative," Jyn replies, and juts her head to the right. "I've already counted three. Four, now."

"I'm at six," Cassian replies coolly, turning away from Jyn's mock scowl. "You're off your game."

"Unfair! You got here first," she replies, and then Cassian can hear her run to the engine room.

* * *

"Commander-"

"If they wanted credits they should've ordered us to start sending them holos of dead bodies," the lead clone says. "I'm not bloodthirsty, it just makes sense. Separatists don't like spending credits, they need... encouragement. But they aren't. It's something else..."

"Commander, Zero-Three isn't responding."

"Must be taking a nap. Someone go wake that bugger up."

The commanding trooper turns on his heel and studies the sole Nemodian sitting among their hostages. "Are you nice and comfortable, sir? I know you all aren't used to the sitting on floors, but it won't be much longer. Four three."

"Yes, sir," CT-4343 steps to his side.

"They gave us three standard hours. It's two and a half, we'll have to get going soon. Tell whoever's in the engine to set the detonator. It's time we left."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

CC-9521 deactivates his comm and flicks a switch at the detonator's control panel. His blood runs cold a moment before a nail taps his shoulder.

Frown hidden under his helmet, he stands to accost his unexpected visitor.

"You shouldn't be-"

Jyn's foot immediately exploits the weakness in trooper armour she'd discovered long ago when she'd first fought a sparring droid cloaked in the familiar white plastoid. The man before her falls with a groan, and her truncheons come down next, ending in a loud crunch.

She glances at the ticking chrono. There's twenty nine minutes on the clock. Enough time for her to dismantle it, but already the sounds of boots thunking echoes up the nearby stairwell.

Not wanting to be cornered she takes a breath before leaping over the handrail. Jyn keeps her hold on it as she swings down, feet first. Her boots connect with a loud thud, pushing the first clone back down the stairwell into a wall.

She pushes off from the impact, releasing the railing. A split second of freefall, and then she's raised her arm and activated her whipcord launcher.

"Agent, what's your status?"

Cassian voice, with impeccable timing.

From boots and bobbing helmets she can count at least three clones rushing up the lower stairwell. Jyn releases more wire, dropping down as a surprise.

Kicking her feet out, she sails across the stairwell. Her blaster is already in her hand when she crashes feet first into the fastest trooper. Arching back, she fires at the seemingly upside down clones.

The blaster's whine and the crashing of bodies will bring far too much attention. Jyn doesn't have the time to wince, her heart thudding with the rhythm of steady, aim, fire.

Soon there are more bodies than targets.

Jyn flips on the wire, propelling downwards and landing with a crouch. No sign of danger.

"Jyn? Status?"

Rushed footsteps.

She swirls to face the clone barreling towards her. His helmet is off, as well as most of his armour. Jyn's confronted by the same features she's grown accustomed to the past couple years. Brown skin, dark eyes, cropped black hair.

They weren't called the Clone Wars for nothing.

For all their shared genetics, the clones all have different looks.

This one glares.

She jumps, aided by the cable, and kicks at his chest.

He grunts, stepping back, and swings.

The blow grazes her, but Jyn meant to take it. She retaliates with a flurry of punches, the face, the nose, the neck; and when he falters she unhooks her truncheons.

"Jyn, status?"

The clone falls, and just as she's about to leap back up a pair of gloved arms dart around her torso, grab her holster. He expects her to struggle, but instead she leans into the clone's hold, then reaches back.

Falling to her knees she flips the trooper over her head with a loud crash.

"Jyn?"

She presses her comm.

"Engine room secure. I'm gonna work on that detonator. Have fun up there."

She tugs on the cord and rappels back up to the top of the stairwell. In her ear, Cassian's voice is audibly relieved. "Affirmative."

Jyn stoops to inspect the door to the actual engine, a mess of wires connecting it to the detonator. Beside her, the first trooper begins to stir.

One hand untangling the wires, the other whips out her blaster and shoots a hole through the already dented plastoid.

"Rude," she says, shoving her blaster back into its holster. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

* * *

"Cassian," Jyn's voice chirps in his ear.

Cassian steps away from the corridor leading to the mess.

"Never one for protocol, are you?"

He can almost hear Jyn rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

"Got a little caught up. Good news is that I'm beating your count, bad news is that there's not enough time for me to disable the detonator. You've got about... seventeen minutes."

Cassian's gaze flickers over to the viewport that seals him and the droids from the hostages.

"Understood. Come find us on our way out."

Jyn cuts the line and Cassian bites back another remark about decorum.

The commanding clone trooper's helmet appears back into his line of sight, and Cassian tosses his shield through the transparisteel.

"Now!" he shouts, and the droids begin firing.

* * *

"Oh. Hello."

Cassian stops mid jog to balk at a familiar figure standing in the control room.

"What are you doing? We have seven minutes before the ship blows up!"

He steps forward to peer over Jyn's shoulder, squinting at the fast moving lines of code. "You're downloading Separatist intel."

"Anything I can save. We're going to lose all of this when the ship blows, and none of it's been backed up anywhere. I checked."

"Our objective is to rescue hostages. They're safe - we should get going."

"I know, this is just - we can't lose all this information. It's all documentation of Republic shipping and purchases - it's too good of an opportunity to waste," she replies without looking up from the monitor and sounding too much like the rebellious woman that she is.

Cassian could admire the way even the harsh artificial lights of the screen set the gold flecks in her eyes aflame, could admire her dedication to collect intel. There were more pressing issues, however.

"Fifteen seconds and then we only have five minutes, Jyn. You're jeopardizing the mission." He hates the haughtiness of his tone, knows Jyn isn't even listening, but the constant tick of the chrono is a roar in his heart. He'd pull her out of here if he had to, but she yanks out the datacard from the computer and raises it, metal strips glinting in the scant light.

"Done." For a moment, he wonders if he sees the need for approval flickering in her eyes. "Let's go-"

Cassian sees the shadow fall across Jyn's face before the sound of footsteps registers. He's already grabbing Jyn when the detonator sails through the open blast door.

The explosion sears their backs as they launch across the databanks. Cassian fires blindly into the maw, kneeling to see over the desks.

The shriek of droids delivering backup fire sings over the roar of flames.

"You know what," Jyn's voice quavers just a bit, staring up at him from the protection of his elbow, "you might've been right."

"Not at all." Cassian hauls her up, and Jyn's dirtied knuckles grasp the table. His gaze flickers over the blood splitting her lips, and briefly, her gaze caresses his features. "You're very capable. But we only have four minutes."

"Then let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's my first attempt at translating some of the CA series' really great fight scenes into words. Hopefully I get better moving forward, but I can't say the same for the fates of our darling leads :P  
> Trying to make two people who are very reserved/quiet/introverted in canon have banter without seeming OOC is. Difficult to say the least.  
> Comments are very very much appreciated: this is one of my most popular fics in terms of words:hits but has a really low comments:hits ratio - and I'm looking to improve my action writing style :)


	8. empire

Humidity pervades every inch of the planet. Except here.

Here the air is empty. Almost reverent, like the stillness of a thousand baited breaths. A pair of medics keep watch. This is all they could spare from the living. Time ticks by as chirps of the chrono, the established rhythm disrupt by a tinny voice coloured by the acoustics of native stone.

_Dethawing process complete._

The air stirs now, the full breaths of deep sleep. With cautious single file, datapads and curiosity quickly fill, the ranks making their way to this slow burning pyre soaring higher with time.

_Heart rate: stable._

_Blood flow: 99.71% standard._

_Commencing depressurization and temperature stabilization._

With a hiss, the transparisteel of the chamber clouds. Droplets form rivulets and soon the humidity inside reaches that of the lush planet.

 _Patient stable,_ the med-droid announces without an iota of fanfare, as if these medics hadn't waited a lifetime to hear those two simple words. A snap of gloves and harried footsteps precede the ushering in of the General. Before the chaos ensues, time allows for a brief moment between the solitary medic and their patient.

 Quietly, the medic regards the lights ebbing faintly with growing life and the dark eyelashes flush against slowly warming skin.

"Welcome home, Captain."

* * *

* * *

It'll be a week until the stench of musty tinned air and hallucinogenic roots will wash out of Jyn's clothing. Wrinkling her nose, she tugs her scarf over her mouth in an attempt to filter out the worst of what Santheria has to offer.

An unremarkable graveyard of dreams, the Confederacy cared little for the planet, marking it on starcharts for the sake of completeness.

Until her stunt with the datacard on the Halycon Star, that is. Some of the files she'd saved from the now disintegrated Separatist ship turned out to be a list of low-security Republic storage facilities. Low security, but still secret. Jyn was tossed into a series of missions and found herself at the head of strike teams sent to obliterate the facilities before the Republic knew what hit them. Cassian led his own missions on the other side of the galaxy. For several months, the only interaction they'd had were little coded messages to ensure the other hadn't died. Grim realities of war was not lost on her.

Today is a different story.

Droids are uncommon on Santheria. For a planet Jyn characterizes as a scaled up version of a cantina's disposal bin, smells included, the lack of logic-driven droids is unsurprising. What it meant for her, personally, was that a strike team of battle droids would stick out like a tauntaun in a glassware shop. When it comes to explosions, subtlety in setting them up is of the essence.

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiles. Who needs a team of battle droids if you have kyber-enhanced humans? Several blood tests later, the Confederacy has yet to replicate her father's formula. In Jyn's mind, two is enough.

Framed by the scant light that flickers from a solitary panel, Cassian stands, head tilted, in front of a panel of holos. They're pictures of beings she doesn't recognize. Overwhelmingly Human. Sighing, she turns back to the detonator she's wiring under an old office desk. It's delicate work - Cassian has a longer history with explosives, but she gets antsy when she's not doing anything. Cassian can be perfectly still for hours on end, much like how he's currently standing.

It's why he's the sniper.

"Done?" he asks, in an uncharacteristic bout of impatience - or, perhaps, a need to reassure himself she's still alive and kicking.

"In a minute." She reaches for her pack, fumbling for one last set of wires and her screwdriver. Cassian turns to face her, light falling across his features. Something glints in his grip. A blaster? No, the datacard.

"Hmmm." Holding the wires in her mouth, she works at screwing another panel in place. In her peripheral vision, she glimpses the tail end of a fleeting smile. Cassian shifts to face the wall again, and something prickles at the edge of Jyn's conscious.

He'd be a statue, if it wasn't for his constant flipping of the datacard.

Jyn pulls the wires out of her mouth, freeing herself to voice her concerns. "Something on your mind?" This was the trouble with Cassian, and herself, to be honest. They never talked unless prompted. They've been working on it, but Cassian's so much better at addressing her unease than she is his. Add the fact they hardly ever see each other - it's a frustrating combination.

Still, as she twists the wires together, she tries her best.

"There's this set of files," he replies, back still facing her, "I've been trying to access them for weeks, now. I don't recognize the syntax. I've tried every key and combination of standard and nonstandard keys - Republic, Separatist, Rim...The techs said they mined this datacard dry. They didn't... it's like a ghost. I know it's there, but I can't open it."

"The ghost folder," Jyn echoes. "I found them too." Before Cassian asks, she adds: "couldn't crack 'em either." Picking up a panel, she slides it over the detonator until it clicks into place. The contraption beeps once, alerting her it's been activated, but not set.

She pats the device before zipping up her pack. She'd found the set of folders by accident. It was as if they'd been developed by someone just slightly smarter than her. She knew enough to know they were there, but not enough to open them. "Maybe it's malware," Jyn offers.

Cassian's mouth curves. Diplomatic ships' techs aren't exactly known for their prowess at avoiding illegal downloads, so it was a possibility. "It doesn't act like it."

He's right. Jyn sighs, brushing dust off her knees. This target, a small storage bunker in the outskirts of Santheria's largest city, had fallen into disrepair. The Republic only left outdated security protocols and a pair of easily disarmed troopers to guard it. This mission was a cakewalk, but all this talk makes a burgeoning sense of dread settle over her.

Though it's nice to be able to talk to Cassian.

"None of the other files are corrupted, anyways." he continues. Cassian's silhouette dissolves into full colour as he leans against the counter she's just fixed a detonator under. "It's not running, either, I checked background data. There's information on it, maybe a program judging by the file size... we could try running a tracer, maybe find out where it was made, or who made it..."

"It's nothing like anything I've ever seen before," she murmurs, simultaneously irritated and intrigued. With all the star systems in the galaxy, it was likely this would happen, but until now she'd never faced such difficulty. The reality sets in her features as a grimace. Usually there was something, a clue, a ledge, for her to grasp and build from but there was nothing on the drive that spoke to her.

Or Cassian, apparently. She hoped he would've fared better. Perhaps they'll be able to come up with something together.

Slicing is a complex beast with many intricate layers - layers which often were mussed up by a single line of improperly formatted code. They'd spent hours working with each other, seeing who could slice the other's code or figure out how open all sorts of hypothetical locked doors. Between Jyn's skills at mimicry and diversion, and Cassian's ability to strip whole droids and systems to their building blocks, metaphorical and physical, the answers were never far out of reach.

Like everything, they were both complementary and utter opposites.

She'd missed bouncing ideas off him. She'd missed _him._

"Not just that... It's like we're the only ones who've even seen it. You'd think somebody would bother to investigate further instead of stopping with the shipping manifests Command's been using to find our targets."

 She rises, picking up her pack and slinging it over her shoulder. "We're the only ones nosy enough to look."

Cassian presses his lips together. "I guess."

Adjusting the straps of her pack, Jyn smiles. "I can't wait to get back and take another crack at that thing. Let's go." She fishes the detonator's switch out of her pocket.

"Speaking of mysteries - I think I found something." He walks back towards the wall of holos, not needing to beckon Jyn as she closely follows suit. "Notice anything?" he asks. She can feel Cassian's gaze on her. Jyn doesn't return the gesture. Peering closely at the holos, she hunts for an answer lying among the beings depicted within them.

"Uh, other than a bunch of old, high-class Core Humans? Not really."

Cassian reaches out. Each holo is emitted by a small projector set within a small protrusion from the wall. The setup creates the illusion of beings rising up from individual ledges, the old projections stretching out around the edges as the emitted light grows distorted. They cast a bluish glow on Cassian's face. Instead of battling with the sharp white hues from the above head panel, they complement each other. They also accentuate the furrow of his brow. Jyn bites back a chuckle.

Walking along the length of the wall, Cassian runs his fingers along the bottom of each ledge. When he reaches the final holo in the row, one of a man dressed all in white, he stops and lifts his hand. The tips of his black gloves are white with dust. Cassian doesn't seem to care.

Pointing at the holo, explains: "The projectors of all the other holos are set right into each ledge. This one isn't." Cassian taps the underside of the ledge for emphasis, knocking the projector with the side of his finger. "The ledge is also thicker. The projector's a button."

"If this base was supposed to be secret," Jyn says, right as Cassian presses the holoprojector, "why are they hiding more secrets?"

The holo flickers off as soon as the projector retracts into the ledge. With a soft click, the ledge retreats into the wall. A resounding boom echoes from within it.

Cassian pulls out his blaster and Jyn reaches for her truncheons. Like a blast door, the entire wall begins to move upwards, revealing a dust-covered platform. A hoverlift. Cassian peers into the alcove, blaster in hand. When the coast is clear, he steps in. Jyn follows, pressing footprints into the dust behind her.

"We're about to find out."

* * *

The answer is, apparently, rows and rows of dust covered databanks. Lights flicker on as Jyn steps off the lift, bringing light to a scene more suited for an office building's storage rather than a secret facility. The banks are pretty old -  older than Cassian, who's three years of seniority Jyn often uses as a punchline.

Cassian makes his way to a large console sitting in the center of the room while Jyn marvels at the sheer size of the databanks towering above her head.

"All of that for... this?" She stops and turns, framed on either side by rows of the things, gesticulating at the sheer absurdity of their size.

Cassian looks up from where he's fiddling with one of the terminals. "The Republic went to great lengths to hide the location of these databanks. Whatever's on them... I wouldn't underestimate it."

Jyn nods, lip curling. "Have you found anything?"

"I think I turned it on but nothing's happening."

Jyn makes her way over to the console. It's made up of several interfaces, some with terminals for droid access and others crafted for Human use. Cassian's fiddling at one of those, hoping to awaken the central processor, and while some lights have started blinking a slow yellow, the screens in front of them remain dark. She peers over Cassian's shoulder,  brushing against the shield on his back. The worn synthleather of his jacket fits the curve of her chin perfectly. It comes naturally - there's no questioning the stray locks of hair falling loose from her bun to unwind themselves along his shoulder.

Cassian points to a shinier addition to the console. "Those ports are new. Someone's been here as recently as the start of the Clone Wars. Tech's still incredibly old, but someone's accessed it."

"Hey," Jyn remarks, "we could try running the datacard in here. Maybe it'll only open with older tech."

Cassian wordlessly hands her the card, intent gaze saying everything he needs to say. It's clear he's on high alert, tension rolling off him in waves and manifesting in his tight grip on the console. She slips pass him to slip the card in. It clicks as it's sucked in.

A low buzz emanates from the computer as it boots up.

"Well, there you go," Jyn huffs, resting her hands on her hips, the sound reminding her of days long forgotten. A moment later, the entire console comes alive.

A Separatist sigil flashes on the main screen, then dissolves into flickering blue lines. It surprises her for a moment before she remembers she'd pulled the disk from a Separatist ship - despite this being a Republic facility, the sigil makes sense.

What she's startled by is the disembodied mechanical voice materializing out of thin air.

<Andor, Cassian Jeron. 23 standard. Fest>

Cassian's blaster is already in his hand.

 When Jyn raises her wrist scanner, she only detects the presence of two beings - herself and Cassian. The background buzzing is now accompanied by a high pitched whine as what appears to be the ocular receptor of a droid mounted on top of the console whirrs away from Cassian to face Jyn.

<Erso, Jyn Dawn. 20 standard. Coruscant.>

"What are you?" Jyn snaps, bristling at her father's last name, "and how do you know all this?"

<I am not a what. I am a who. Perhaps not the Jedi I once was, but I still exist.>

"Jedi?" Cassian wrinkles his nose. "How can a processor be a Jedi? They use the Force, and last time I checked droids can't use the Force."

The camera swivels to face Cassian.

<Your understanding of the Force is rudimentary at best. It leads to many pathways, some which many consider unnatural. Such as... living after death. You are standing in my brain.>

Jyn's gaze flickers over to the databanks. A consciousness preserved as data. Definitely a secret worth hiding on a planet droids won't set foot on.

"What are you doing here? How did you get on a Separatist ship?" Cassian still hasn't lowered his blaster, but his attention's shifted away from survival and to interrogation. He looks almost lethal, standing like this with a blaster in one hand and a dangerously intent gaze. Jyn's comparatively relaxed in posture, but she's still bristling. How did this Jedi-turned-computer know her birth name? Even Cassian hadn't known until after her father had died.

The voice laughs, low and unnatural. The eerie sound weighs around Cassian's senses.

<You are sure in your convictions, Captain Andor.> A whir as the camera swivels. <You think this is a simple fight, Captain Erso. _The Republic is corrupt. The Separatists stand to defy it,_ > it says, voice higher and faster in a mocking tone. <You are wrong. You both are terribly, utterly wrong.> There's a whir, and the voice becomes disjointed.

<I see right through you, Captains. Yes. I see it now. I foresaw it, I warned the Council of a great darkness to come, told them to create a Clone Army to protect all that we believed in ->

"Clones were your idea?" Jyn interjects. "How could you? It's a karking waste of lives - "

<Not in the future I foresaw. A few thousand, million, clones or the lives of billions, trillions, of sentients across the galaxy? The answer is obvious, and I know Captain Andor would agree with me.>

Jyn turns to face Cassian, who's face is completely devoid of any expression other than focus. The voice continues on without heed for her loss of attention. <I came to realize the very darkness I was fighting was the Republic itself. You both have lost much to it. I left before I became another victim. I found someone who could see, like I could. He said the price for security was freedom and the galaxy needed to surrender its freedom willingly. Out of fear.>

Cold seeps into the base of Cassian's stomach. The unease could stem from being on high alert for an extended period of time, or just be caused by the speaker's eerie voice. His gut says otherwise. He glances over at Jyn. If looks could kill, the console would be a piling heap of scrap metal.

<The Confederacy is meant to do just that. Not fight the evil of the Republic, Captain Erso, or to free the Rim, Captain Andor - no. We created a galaxy so chaotic that its citizens are finally ready to sacrifice their freedom for security. Once the purification process is complete, my Master's new galactic order will arise. The only way a galaxy can be truly peaceful, is if it lies in the control of one man.>

"Prove it," Cassian says. If he was the type of man to lash out in anger, he would've. "Prove it. You can't just say-" _that my entire life means nothing,_ "the Confederacy is just a front and assume we'll believe you." Jyn grips his forearm.

<Accessing archive.>

The center screen fills with a blue-toned image of a pair of young men posing for a graduation photo, while the screens on either side display the images and biodata of each of the two men. Cassian recognizes one as a slightly younger version of the man in white. The face of the other seems familiar.

Jyn's grip on Cassian's arm tightens. When he turns to her, the resemblance clicks.

<Galen Erso. Orson Krennic. Only one found scientific success, the other made up for it with political cunning. Krennic failed to sway Dr. Erso and lost him to the Separatist cause. What neither of them realize is all that is the Republic's, all that is the Confederacy's, will become my Master's soon enough. All of your father's research, Captain Erso, including what runs in both your veins->

Before Cassian can react, Jyn's grabbed her truncheons.  "He's dead!" They come down hard on the console, smashing the camera and the screen. Cassian raises an arm to stop her, but doesn't move to do so. "I thought he'd be better off dead and when I started to think differently he _died_! How dare you think he'd even let your filthy hands-"

Before Cassian can react, an insignia he's never seen before flickers on the two screens, and every other screen in the room. Jyn's bared teeth fade into a grimace. Taking a step forward, it's Cassian's turn to put a hand on her shoulder.

 <I have a heart of kyber, Captain Erso, much like you both and the lightsaber I once wielded. _Through victory my chains are broken._ I pity you, the flesh-bound living.> The voice garbles, going faster. <The Sieges leave the Republic's crown undefended. The Jedi will not survive this war. Neither will the Separatists, neither will you. Even now, every droid, every clone, is under my Master's command. A new empire will rise.>

Cassian shakes his head slowly. "Not if we can stop it. How do you open the ghost folder?"

<Ah. You found it. I see. The key to this key, well, it is the one thing I do not have, the one thing that forms the basis of every great achievement.>

"Sweat?"

<No - Blood!> Jyn scowls and turns her gaze to her crossed arms.

Cassian pushes forward. "What's on it?"

<Plans. Implants for the brain, ways to live beyond death, methods of carbon-freezing, ways to wipe one's mind, plans for superweapons - yes, another kyber-heart. My Master will someday be able to destroy any rebellion in the snap of his fingers. And soon Coruscant will fall, but unfortunately, you two will not live to see it.>

Jyn's blood runs cold. Not due to the speaker's words, but at the sight of new blips on her wrist scanner. "Cassian!" Her eyes are wide, hand on her blaster. "Sentients, approaching the facility. Signatures read high power weapons, ballistics, I think. Not friendly."

"Activate the detonator." Cassian doesn't hesitate. His gaze briefly meets Jyn, and neither of them see fear. She nods. A flash of silver catches his eye - a hatch just by his foot. A faint chirp sounds as Jyn sets the detonator and begins to count down from thirty. Cassian kicks the hatch open just as Jyn yanks the datacard from the console.

<I'm afraid I have been stalling. We have already won, Captains. Face it, your lives will amount to the same as your deaths. A zero->

Cassian manages to duck inside after Jyn and pull his shield over their heads before their world explodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! I never forgot about this fic, just wrote one word per day xD
> 
> The voice ie. Zola in the MCU is inspired by (the EU versions, I guess) of Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas & Count Dooku/Darth Tyrannus.


End file.
